


Walk Sober Off

by loves_books



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: It’s been a good, long run for James, and he’s never regretted staying, not really, though it’s fair to say he’s had his moments of doubt. He’s been with the police for more than thirty years now, mostly at the same station, but while he does still love most aspects of the job, he actually doesn’t think he’ll miss any of it now it’s all over.It’s time to enjoy the rest of his life – no, the rest oftheirlives.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, so any and all errors are entirely mine.

It’s a good turnout, James feels, looking around the pub full of his colleagues and friends with a small, private smile. More people than perhaps he would have expected. It’s been a quiet do, for the most part; just a few drinks together after work before James slips away home. Not too much fuss.

Just the way James hoped it would be.

He’s never liked being the centre of attention, so he’s made it clear that there are to be no speeches or toasts, though nearly everyone present has come up to say a few words to him. A quiet evening won’t hurt anyone. There have been enough big parties recently: three birthday bashes in the last couple of months, plus two stag dos and hen nights, not to mention the corresponding weddings. 

If pressed, James would have to admit to being surprised the whole nick hasn’t been working with a constant and impressive hangover. All that, and they’ve still got the Chief Super’s own retirement party in another fortnight. That won’t be a quiet affair, certainly, and the rumours and speculation have already reached legendary proportions. The Chief Super does love a good party, with plenty of alcohol and drinking games for all those not on call.

James shudders at the very thought. Even this quiet night out is more than he really wanted, but his colleagues had refused to just let him go without marking the occasion somehow, which has touched him more than he expected. At work that afternoon he’d been presented with an enormous card, signed by everyone in the station, and a predictable yet gratefully received engraved watch. He’s never been ‘one of the guys’ but he’s well-respected and well-liked, and even that much is more than his younger self would ever have dreamed of.

His current sergeant catches his eye across the crowded bar and raises his pint in salute with a grin, James matching it easily. He’s a good lad, DS Browning, and James knows he’ll have a long future ahead of him in the force. Only thirty and already going in for his Inspector’s OSPRE – James would’ve liked to see his young partner through it personally, but with their CS retiring as well this had seemed liked a good time to make the break.

Browning will sail through his OSPRE, and James will miss the man and his quirky sense of humour, even though looking at him sometimes makes him feel he is looking in some strange mirror that not only sends him back thirty years but twists things just slightly. Six foot three, just like James, and blond, blue-eyed, Cambridge-educated, but built like a rugby player rather than the stick insect that James was, still is, and probably always will be.

They’ve been a more than successful pair over the last year or so, though James has had other sergeants, of course. Eight in total, not including those few who only stuck around for a month or two, and his first sergeant – the first one who James counts, the one who had stayed – had sent her apologies for not being able to make it this evening.

James would’ve loved to see Lizzie Maddox there, but knows he’ll see her in another couple of months when they go up North to visit with her and Tony. Lizzie is only just settling into her new and long-overdue position as DCI, in a new station, so of course James understands her absence completely. He always knew she would go further in her career than he has, and his pride for her achievements and her ambition burns fiercely in his chest.

She’s not the only absent friend, of course, and James spares a thought for those who are elsewhere tonight. Laura Hobson, now living and working in Germany with her partner. Jean Innocent, long since retired and settled in Scotland, of all places. Just-call-me-Joe Moody, working his way up through the ranks in the Met, though still emailing James at least once a week. 

Some are gone forever, sadly – Alan Peterson, for one, their very own ‘superman’, shot and killed a decade ago in a drugs raid gone tragically wrong. But some other faces from the earlier days are still around. Julie Lockhart had popped in on her way home to give James a hug and a kiss, even though she left the police to retrain as a lawyer years ago. And Gurdip is around somewhere, loyal Gurdip who still loves his tech job, getting quietly drunk and enjoying a rare night away from his 6 beloved kids.

It’s been a good, long run for James, given his unusual start in the force and given that he’d nearly quit more than once back when he’d been a DS. And he’s never regretted staying, not really, though it’s fair to say he’s had his moments of doubt. He’s been with the police for more than thirty years now, mostly at the same station, but while he does still love most aspects of the job – he never would have stayed this long unless he loved it and still found it both challenging and satisfying – he actually doesn’t think he’ll miss any of it now it’s all over.

Though it will be strange not to have to set the alarm for the morning, or to remember to leave the phone on in case he gets a call out. Some habits will take a long time to fade.

But it’s time for him to go now. It’s been time for a while, really, and only sheer stubbornness has made James hang on in there over the last few months as he’s really started to feel his age. His mind is as sharp as ever, but his left knee locks up sometimes when he moves too quickly, and his hips ache in the cold. His eyesight is getting progressively worse, and his hands have started to shake, too, so badly at times that he struggles to hold his guitar. 

Better to go now, by his own choosing, rather than wait to be forced out. Better to go now, rather than wait until he makes a mistake that might cost someone dearly.

It’s time to enjoy the rest of his life – no, the rest of _their_ lives, together in the gorgeous little bungalow they’d bought a few years back. A garden, a vegetable patch, a cat, and an open fire place. A simple, happy, quiet life, just the two of them.

James finishes his pint and places his empty glass down carefully on the table. He takes one last look around and, finding himself temporarily free of well-wishers, reaches over to grab his jacket. He offers no speeches or even any last goodbyes, knowing he’ll see everyone again soon enough; he’s retiring, not going into hiding. He slips quietly through the crowd and out of the side door, blessedly unobserved, and emerges in the cool air of an Oxford spring evening with a sigh of relief.

His fingers still twitch to light up a cigarette, though he’d finally managed to quit fifteen years earlier with only the occasional slip up since then. Another habit that’s been hard to break. He briefly contemplates calling a cab, but it’s only a twenty minute walk home, even with his knee and hips, so James buries his hands in his pockets instead and sets off with another small smile. He soon finds himself stretching his long legs in an effort to get there even faster, and when he turns onto their street he pulls his keys out ready, suddenly desperate to get inside. 

But as he walks up to their bright red front door, it suddenly swings open in front of him to reveal a grinning Robbie, clearly waiting for him.

James knows Robbie had desperately wanted to be there with him this evening, but also knows his husband had deliberately chosen to stay at home instead, respecting James’s wish to keep the whole thing simple and quiet. Robbie must’ve been watching at the front window, and James feels again just how very deeply he loves this wonderful man.

Even in his eighties, Robbie still looks just as handsome as he always has, strong, healthy and broad-shouldered. True, his hair is all silver now and fairly thin on top, and he’s softened a little around the middle, but those blue eyes still twinkle as brightly as they did on the day James first met him, even if they are surrounded by tiny creases.

Robbie opens his arms and James falls gladly into the still-strong embrace, resting his head on his husband’s shoulder with a contented sigh, and wraps his arms around Robbie in return. There are some days when he feels as if he is the older one, though nearly twenty years separate them, and right now he feels very old indeed. And tired. So tired. 

For a long moment they simply stand there in the doorway, locked together in a tender embrace, silently breathing each other in and absorbing the realisation that this is finally it.

The rest of their lives, just for them. It feels as if a weight has been lifted from James’s shoulders, and he can breathe freely for the first time in too many years. He can barely believe how lucky he really is.

“Welcome home, love,” Robbie whispers in James’s ear, and James just burrows closer still, before the rest is silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Learn to live well, or fairly make your will;  
> You’ve played, and loved, and ate, and drunk your fill:  
> Walk sober off; before a sprightlier age  
> Comes tittering on, and shoves you from the stage - Alexander Pope


End file.
